crinkled on the piercing blades of green

blight of blessings pressing on your body;

under the flaps of our umbrella you stood

although under the roof,

unclouded it was.

presentiment you felt that perhaps, dollops of rain would stream

from the windows of your soul

and not the sky;

murking the sanctified soil of life.

bear the grievances of your neighbors, you urged

for as God will carry my burdens,

he will surely endure yours;

though only if you Atone.

duty ought to compel you: Stand!

the spell of motherhood unexpired

yet you remain still,

incapable of rising.

“Sin ti, desamparados permanecemos,

y angustiados esperamos el dia en que

abandonados quedemos.”